


Rest My Head at Night, Content

by the_actual_letter_n



Category: Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Sleeping Together, literally just cuddling and tooth-rotting fluff, maybe mild hurt? but mostly just comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_actual_letter_n/pseuds/the_actual_letter_n
Summary: When he wakes up, he's safe.
Relationships: Hikari Natsumi/Kadoya Tsukasa/Kaitou Daiki/Onodera Yuusuke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Rest My Head at Night, Content

When he wakes up, he’s safe.

He knows that before he even opens his eyes. The feeling floats to him with the scent of developer that permeates the air, mixed with the warm aroma of coffee. Hesitant consciousness returns right into a sense of familiarity that doesn’t allow fear or doubt to even begin taking hold and pushes the memories back until they become irrelevant. He probably could recall how he lost consciousness in the first place and where that dull pain of bruised ribs came from, but he doesn’t care.  
All Tsukasa cares about is that he’s safe and laying on something comfortable, soothing warmth enveloping his left side. He shifts his arm and finds it immobilized.

He finally opens his eyes and he’s greeted with dimmed light, spilling into the room from somewhere far enough for his aching head to tolerate. He doesn’t need to see the wooden beams under the sloped ceiling and the flax yellow walls to recognize the back room of Hikari Studio. He lays on the huge old sofa that had been there for years, with his head propped up on something soft and he can feel the fibers of a knit blanket under his bare back. The memories that do come then are of winter nights and snow on the windows; of knitting needles, tangled yarn, playful mockery, and the ugliest piece of knitting that is softer to lay on than finest silk. Of the hands that made that blanket, the hands now warming his skin against the ache from underneath it.

Natsumi is curled up next to him, squeezed in between his body and the wall. Her right arm lays across Tsukasa’s stomach while the left is wrapped around his forearm. She’s holding it close to her chest and their intertwined hands are inches away from her lips. He feels her breath on his fingers, an even, calming rhythm of sleep. Her hair is in carefree disarray, loose strands falling across her face which even in her sleep retains a trace of the pensive frown she so often carries. There's always something on her mind, Tsukasa thinks, and thank all the worlds for that because if there wasn't, they would all be dead thrice over. But they're not, and she's here, and her touch makes his limbs less heavy.

It's so familiar how she holds him.

He turns his head towards her but something catches in his hair, some slight, gentle resistance. He's suddenly aware of the dot of warmth on his forehead, and he realizes he could drown in it, lean his head further into it and fall right back asleep in its safety. Not without difficulty, he looks up. 

His head lays in Yuusuke's lap and it's his hand that Tsukasa feels, tangled into his hair. He's sitting up, back against the wall and his legs stretched out, half-covered with another blanket, the one they stole from a hotel in the world where they accidentally started a revolution. It was all adrenaline and gunfire, a last-chance leap from a window, but in Tsukasa's memories the one clear frame is Yuusuke's hand in his as they jumped. The feeling of solid ground, even in freefall.

Now, Yuusuke's sleeping face is dotted with plasters. A clean white bandage peeks out from under the collar of his shirt, matching the one on Tsukasa's own chest. He could follow that trail, remember the fight that must have happened, but he feels no need to. Having Yuusuke here is enough, his one hand in Tsukasa's hair and the other resting on Natsumi's shoulder, his peaceful stillness radiating into the room.

The unity of them, in combat and out, is deeper in Tsukasa's mind than memory could ever be.

And of course, like a puzzle piece hand-painted to fit, there is another presence that he feels by his side. His right arm is hanging down over the side of the couch and though his hand is free, the very tips of his fingers tingle with a trace of warmth. Not quite touch, but a proximity, a potential of it.

On the floor at the foot of the couch sits Kaitou, cross-legged, with his head dipped down low. His hair is loose and tangled, it falls on either side of his face hiding it from Tsukasa's view. All he sees is the corner of Kaitou's parted lips, but that's enough. Enough to see that the usual hard set of his jaw is gone and enough to call to mind the full image of his features, softened by that fond smile that he always tries so hard to hide. Always just in proximity, like their hands that now rest barely an inch apart in Kaitou's lap. Tsukasa's arm hangs down along his chest, the heat of his skin seeping into weary muscles, soothing the last traces of the aches.

Tsukasa moves his fingers slightly and right away Kaitou's hand twitches towards his. Only a brush against the palm, but enough to bridge the gap and turn potential into promise.

Yuusuke shifts and mutters something, but he doesn't wake. He moves his hand down Tsukasa's head and onto his temple, rubbing gentle circles into his skin in a rhythmical motion that anchors him to exactly and only the memories he wants. Hazy images of unremarkable days, traces of feelings and snapshot freeze-frames of smiles.

Tsukasa looks aside and into Natsumi's eyes, half-lidded. They're the colour of coffee and so, so much sweeter than the horrible concoctions she brews. She pulls closer and buries her face in his shoulder and he can feel the pulse on her neck, so familiar he could dance to it. Like the smell of coffee, like the wooden beams, like the room and house he has mapped in his mind with unshakeable accuracy. 

Even when he knows nothing, he knows her and she knows him, knows that it's not time to wake yet. It's time for her warmth to blend with Yuusuke's, her love with Kaitou's; and for Tsukasa's eyelids to slide down once more and his mind to drift back into the safest of oblivions.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song Marbles by The Amazing Devil.


End file.
